


#this ask entitles the bearer to

by booabug



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Gen, that i made even more challenging for myself, there's like a little DJWiFi but not enough for me to relationship tag it, tumblr ask challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 13:04:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15171344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booabug/pseuds/booabug
Summary: "send me a made-up fic title and i'll tell you what i would write to go with it," the post said. "Let’s try and get me to post some kind of writing, shall we?" I said. 'It's only going to maybe three paragraphs of an idea,' I thought.I was wrong.Lost GleamWritten, aged up, post-defeat, imprisoned Gabriel, Agreste Angste Feste. 527 words.Pop Goes The FoxS2 spoilers! Full miraculous squad celebrating Nino’s birthday. 685 words.Mood SwingsDescribed, way too detailed no miraculous enemies to lovers baseball (or hockey?) AU. 1385 words.





	1. Lost Gleam

**Author's Note:**

> Because I inflicted [this post](http://booabug.tumblr.com/post/175531153758/) on myself, then lost all control. My tumblr's tag for all content: [#this ask entitles the bearer to](http://booabug.tumblr.com/tagged/this-ask-entitles-the-bearer-to)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ask: "About the made-up title thing: Lost Gleam"

Gabriel watches over the rim of his glasses, as the other man enters and takes his seat across from him, straightening his tie. He pulls in his seat, sits up, and folds his hands on the table. Then they stare at one another.

The man, and he is a man now, doesn’t have to look up anymore. His eyes look straight at Gabriel’s own. They’re the same height. He’s still much younger, of course, with no grey on his head. If anything, the blond of his hair has gotten darker, but his facial structure has settled into more or less the same, and he matches the steely stare that’s taken all but the most bold (and foolish) aback.

The prison glass is nearly a mirror.

It’s that which takes Gabriel aback: his son had always had his mother’s eyes. Not his.

He doesn’t miss the weary glance his son shoots him when he reaches for the phone handset first. He stays silent even as Gabriel does the same.

“Adrien.”

“Gabriel,” he echoes.

The elder narrows his eyes. “I’m still your father.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

More silence.

“Did you just come here to antagonize me, or is there a point to this?”

“Right to business,” Adrien remarks, “As always.” A sigh where he closes his eyes. When he locks gazes to speak again, some of the edge has gone. Some.

“I want to know why.”

> ‘ _Why is the sky blue, pére?’ ‘Look, pére, pigeons! Why are there so many?’ ‘Pére, you draw so well. How do you do that?’ ‘I just want to know why can’t I go school with all the other kids, pére.’ ‘Pére, the tutor explained, but I’m still having trouble with this. Could you help me with these chord progressions, please?’_
> 
> ‘ _Not now.’_  

“I’m waiting,” Adrien says with a level stare.

> ‘ _Why hasn’t she come home yet, pére? Where is she?’_
> 
> ‘ _Not now.’_  

“Tell me,” Gabriel says, “What would you do if your-”

“ _-Don’t,”_ Adrien cuts in. “Don't you say her name.”

Their glares clash.

“Fine. What would you do if something happened to _her,_ and you knew that was the only way to bring her back to you?”

The sound of a breath is all that comes through the line. Then two, then three.

“I don’t have to answer to that,” Adrien says. Before Gabriel can reply, he continues, “But I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know,” his voice softens, “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to her. All I know is that I would ask myself, whether it’s something she would want for me.”

His eyes are averted when he ends in a mutter. His mother would do the same, at times.

It’s with her eyes that his son looks back at Gabriel. It’s so much like her voice, his voice, that says, “It’s hard to trust my memories from when I was younger these days, but I... I think you really loved her.”

“Yes,” Gabriel says, “Immensely.”

“Then maybe,” his son says, “Maybe as much as I love the woman I love.”

“It’s likely.”

“So help me understand,” Adrien leans forward, “What happened to that? What happened to you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr post.](http://booabug.tumblr.com/post/175550315298/)


	2. Pop Goes The Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ask: "Pop goes the Fox (I couldn't stop myself)"

“Uh,” Nino articulated, staring at the bigmongous cake parked on the table before him like a Hummer in a small car stall.

He glanced to his side, where Marinette was threatening to vibe through the floor in excitement. Beside her, even Chloe’s usual look of _‘I’d rather be anywhere else’_ was more _‘_ _T_ _he peasants_ _may_ _amuse me ‘fore I shall take my leave.’_

He didn’t even have to look at Adrien. Nino could _feel_ the energy his bro was emitting. He was not currently decked out in black supersuit, but that was, without a doubt, big Chat Noir energy. Magnitude _‘I’m about to Cataclysm_ _a_ _priceless cultural landmark_ and _look cool as hell doing it’_ energy.

And their kwami... were out of sight. Completely ghosted on them.

Worrying.

“I’m confused.”

“You don’t like the cake?” Marinette said, sounding wounded. Unconvincing.

Nino blinked at her. “It’s a bigass cake,” he pointed out.

“Is it?”

“Dude, it’s like... my height right now,” Nino looked in sympathy at the table valiantly fighting off confectionary collapse. It was ridiculously disproportionate. The entire situation was ridiculously... them. Only this squad of goofballs could or _would_ pull this. He couldn’t help but snort and smile. “Okay, not even _your_ birthday cake was as—I mean, the only thing I can think of is that you have bad news for me? Did something happen? Did your dad bake a cake as big as his sorrow?”

His smile faltered. “Doesss... This have anything to with Alya being... _‘late?’”_

“Wh- No! It’s not sympathy _pain,_ ” Adrien panic-punned, “She’s ju-”

Upper tiers of cake exploded with the unholy hell-screech of Satan’s chest-burster.

“HOLY FRICKITY FRACK DOWN THE TRACK,” Nino screamed, from the air, as he was airborne, having been rocket-nightmare fuel propelled upwards. Though alarms were blaring in his head, he would know that screech anywhere. “ARE YOU _TRYING_ TO KILL ME, WOMAN?”

“Uh, rude,” Alnya Rougésaire said with signature head bob. “I wouldn’t pop out of a cake for just anyone, you know. Much less do the fox scream.”

“WHY,” Nino yelled, voice higher than his mortared chill, still blasting off into space, “ARE YOU EVEN TRANSFORMED?”

“I won’t have to clean up,” she said. Her grin was equal parts smug and sly.

He groaned, laser eye beaming his Doneness at his infuriatingly adept at messing with him girlfriend. He was so proud to call her that. Also pissed off right now. He’d gotten used to that feel cocktail. Plus, thanks to her, he was becoming familiarized with cake murder!

‘ _Yes,’_ Nino thought when he looked down, _‘It’s cake carnage!_ _R_ _IP_ _cake._ _’_

“Ugh, my clothes!” Chloe, apparently, had also been showered with sweet, fluffy giblets. _“So_ not worth seeing Nino’s reaction.”

“Awww,” Marinette cooed, slinging an arm around her into one of her inescapable Ladyhugs, now with added icing. “You know it was.”

“Get off.”

Nino, mid-chuckle, found himself propelled _sideways_ this time, as his rowdy bro bodyslammed into, past, and possibly through him, with full force big Chat energy to make a messy hero huddle. It struck him, and his teeth, that his leading boy and his leading girl were a swirling mass of chaos. Rena happened, so Chat happened, and now big Rena energy was sure to—his teeth rattled again after a brief, but all too familiar sensation of falling.

Yes. They were a dogpile now. Rena was top dog.... Fox. Canid. Of course.

“I hate this freaking family,” came Chloe’s muffled, possibly final words.

“You love us,” Adrien said, squirming and wriggling to best assume soul squeezing hug position through the world’s worst hero sandwich.

Nino burst into laughter.

He was soon joined by a chorus of tinier laughter. Ah. There they were. The pantheon of sneaks. He wondered if they had known to hide from experience. If they had ever witnessed a miraculous team in such a disastrous heap before, at no one’s fault but their own.

Well. Dang, if they had? Whatever. His crew was doing it better.

“Thanks, dudes. Best birthday ever,” he grinned. “Tikki, though, can you not?”

The kwami stopped mid-lick at his cheek. “Sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr post.](http://booabug.tumblr.com/post/175558629888/pop-goes-the-fox-i-couldnt-stop-myself)


	3. Mood Swings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ask - "Mood swings? Literally the first thing I thought of lol"  
> Response - no miraculous enemies to lovers baseball AU  
> Reply - This is way better than I imagined  
> Response - ... Same, actually. I don’t know much about baseball so _if I did_ write a sports AU, it would be ice hockey.

# Mood Swings

### [Ask:] Mood swings? Literally the first thing I thought of lol

The Panthers are big money, full roster of big name players. Adrien being the top player on the team means he’s _the_ _king._ The people love him too: he’s charming, he’s handsome, he’ll hit the ball out of the park and dance his black clad, ridiculously extra ass around the diamond while the other team can only dream of jumping him behind the stadium later and taking turns personally strangling him.

Marinette would have half a mind to throw down anyway.

Luckily, close 2nd top team Scarabs never has to suspend her. They shot up in rankings _and_ popularity thanks to their star pitcher—the only one in the league who regularly makes Agreste strike out. He’s never gotten an out of the park on her. At this point, Dupain-Cheng is a folk hero to every fan not rooting for the Panthers... but also to people who never had a team before.

She _could_ be on the Panthers or any other major team. She’s been getting insane offers for years. Instead, she stays on the relatively minor Scarabs: they’re based in her home neighbourhood, she’s played with them for most of her career, and she can make sure tons of the revenue from ads and merch goes into charity. It’s attracted more fans, which attracted more sponsors, which attracted more interest, which… see where I’m going with this?

She’s kind of a big deal. He’s a kind of a big deal. The best part, sports fan or not, is their big, very public feud.

* * *

Dupain-Cheng rolls her eyes at the Panthers’ adorable little kitten, who probably spends more time grooming than practicing. One of these days, he’ll trip and break his pretty face after an out of the park. Shame she won’t get to see it in person, since he’ll never hit one with her.

Agreste shrugs this all off. So she does think he’s adorable and pretty? Well, she’s just as cute as a bug! Oh, she’ll get to see him dance in person one of these days. In fact, all she has to do is ask. After all, she deserves it, have you heard of her PR work? _Such_ a lady.

Oh yeah, he knows all about her charity work. He’s been watching. Adrien knows how the league runs, so once the Scarabs came onto the radar, he wanted to know what their game was.

Their game is baseball. That’s all.

Their game is the game he played as a kid, before all the long days and long nights in the batting cages. The game with worn old bleachers filled with people decked out in team colours and people in whatever they rolled off their futon in alike. The game where adults talked stats just to wow kids and compare with players from _their_ generation, ones they wish they could see now.

He knows that it isn’t just a PR move. That’s what keeps him coming back. Of course, curiosity killed the cat.

Oh, Adrien’s sly, but not sly enough to go unnoticed by Marinette. The silly kitty skulking around is harmless, though, so it’s whatever. Then some misunderstanding idk I’m not going to figure it out now, this has already become way too detailed, threatens to reveal the regular joe in the white shirt who really doesn’t need to be wearing both shades and a cap when it’s this cloudy? Yeah, that’s Adrien Agreste and those shades are Gucci.

This is getting too damn long. Okay. Marinette finds out Adrien’s the one behind all the donations made under stupid pun names _(every one of which he cracks up over when she asks if it was him),_ and that he doesn’t want to be known as Agreste, and he really is that extra in daily life, and he loves kids, and cookies, and hugs.

She can _(and does)_ build a mental library of the baffling extent of hug variety he has. Examples: the squishing “no I am not sniffling” hug, the knock-over “oh sorry I forgot I’m a mass of athletic muscle and doglike enthusiasm are you okay” hug, and the spontaneous “nothing I just felt like you could use a hug” hug. _(The last one’s her favourite.)_

Adrien finds out that the game he fell in love with is still out there, and there’s even more than he could imagine. There’s pizza parties with little leaguers’ families, there’s bars with multiple generations of fans spilling drinks over arguments where they actually agree anyway, and there’s Marinette’s apartment with her asleep on the couch while the fan rustles her hair whenever it turns back around. _(The last one’s his favourite.)_

* * *

That’s how the title comes in: their views of each other completely turn around. Throughout, they’re drastically different with each other on the field/camera and off. Plus both remain distinct, but develop in their own ways too.

Not-Ladynoir starts off snarky, sarcastic, slightly bitter, and very competitive. Later, and probably only they notice, Dupain-Cheng starts referring to Adrien like a pet cat all the time, and never calls him Agreste anymore. His jokes lose all their bite so they’re more innocently flirty than anything, though he’d feel too shy about saying them right to Marinette.

There’s the games with their sly cues. “Win-or-lose” temporarily leaves their mind because _“I HAVE to mess with him/her”_ and no one but them has any idea what’s happening.

One watching the game on TV, or on their phone when they really shouldn’t, because they _need_ to know how the other’s doing—not knowing the one playing is hoping for just that.

Making a play they never could have before, realizing it’s because of things they learned from each other in the middle of teammates congratulating them, and smiling even more.

_(There’s corporate intrigue and systematic problems throughout the league they find unlikely allies in each other against too but I’m not touching that.)_

There’s also the one-on-one practices where they really get into it, except it’s really distracting when they look that intense with no one else around, and when their clothing is way thinner than uniform so it sticks to their body and it really doesn’t hide the way their chest heaves when they’re breathing hard, or how their muscles flex when they do _anything._

Then there’s lazily playing catch while talking about this funny thing that happened. Pitching-batting where they only hit the ball a few meters away _(unless they want to make the other yell and groan about having to get it ALL THE WAY OVER THERE?!)_ and just fooling around and laughing until they’re all worn out, so they end up laying on the grass, staring at the sky, talking.

(and maybe watching the other when they’re not looking)

And there’s a lot more, and it’s all different, but it always leads them back to each other.

* * *

### [Original asker replied]: This is way better than I imagined

… Same, actually. I don’t know much about baseball so _if I did_ write a sports AU, it would be ice hockey. About everything’s still applicable. It has just much cultural, multi-generational, community impact. Plus, since I’m more familiar with it, I can think of more things that would suit the love square better.

**Not-Ladynoir:**

  * Intense stares at face-offs. Can’t look away until the puck drops.
  * Checking each other harder than they do anyone else.
  * Agreste goofing with fans through the glass when he’s in the penalty box.
  * He spends a lot of time in the penalty box.
  * Dupain-Cheng taking the gloves off any time you mess with one of her teammates—even if it’s Ivan/someone as big, beefy, and grouchy as him.
  * Watching each other celly with the biggest **ಠ** **_** **ಠ** face but lowkey proud; highkey swooning if watching a game not against each other.



**Adrinette:**

  * Racing around the rink, laughing when the other flails over bumpy ice.
  * Making snow angels & having (tiny) snowball fights with the shavings.
  * Laying and talking on the rink.
  * About anything and nothing.
  * In silence, puffing and watching their breath fog up.
  * About banners hanging in the arena & admiring the greats.
  * (also which ones the other reminds them of and why)
  * Teaching kids to skate & making heart eyes watching each other.
  * _All the comfy winter tropes._



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually the first ask/response, but I moved it to the last of today's crossposts so as to not scare away people checking this thing out ┐(‘～`；)┌ given the wildly varying tones, it's a _really_ fitting first title, though!
> 
> More of a lowdown in my second post, omitted here, but if you want romance and ice hockey, buddy, you need to read [Check, Please!](http://www.checkpleasecomic.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [First Tumblr post.](http://booabug.tumblr.com/post/175535206493/)  
> [Second Tumblr post.](http://booabug.tumblr.com/post/175550125683/)


End file.
